// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //
Obviously the state of the Maverick is enough to have Asta on high alert. But it’s the easy hey and the realization of looking at himself to see what kind of state he’s in that has Asta far more worried. There’s no quiet jests, there’s no easy grins, no suave comments and leisure pace. There’s just the picture of someone in pain without quite realizing it, lost and trapped somewhere else for the time being.
But this isn’t just someone. This is Astaroth’s heart, and he swallows down the pain that he doesn’t even need to have the wounds that dot his fiance’s body to feel. He knows them well enough already with his own excursions. “No, no. It’s okay, darling.” He shakes his head immediately to the belated apology, stepping forward and testing those boundaries to wrap an arm around the Maverick, careful of any wounds just so that he might be able to lean against him. “Let’s get you some fountain water, ¿sí? We can sit out on the beach or walk for however long once we get you mended.” Worry settles in the confines of the Butcher’s throat, but he swallows it down, looking at him sidelong before peering down the beach toward an outpost he’d passed on the way here that he’s fairly certain would have a bottle of healing water within.
“Are you still hungry?” He asks, knowing it’s a stupid question given Danta’s inability to really be able to tell, but he’s happy to herd some hels toward him if he needed more.
But this isn’t just someone. This is Astaroth’s heart, and he swallows down the pain that he doesn’t even need to have the wounds that dot his fiance’s body to feel. He knows them well enough already with his own excursions. “No, no. It’s okay, darling.” He shakes his head immediately to the belated apology, stepping forward and testing those boundaries to wrap an arm around the Maverick, careful of any wounds just so that he might be able to lean against him. “Let’s get you some fountain water, ¿sí? We can sit out on the beach or walk for however long once we get you mended.” Worry settles in the confines of the Butcher’s throat, but he swallows it down, looking at him sidelong before peering down the beach toward an outpost he’d passed on the way here that he’s fairly certain would have a bottle of healing water within.
“Are you still hungry?” He asks, knowing it’s a stupid question given Danta’s inability to really be able to tell, but he’s happy to herd some hels toward him if he needed more.
Astaroth
// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //
